Stille Nacht
by Aka Pine
Summary: Fenris shares a quiet evening. Holiday themed.


_AN: Just a small drabble. I posted a request on the kink meme for Holiday themed snippets, and this is my own submission. The only warning I have is that I took a very beloved Christmas song, and tweaked it...badly, in my opinion, but meh. You can find the original request thread here (remember to take out the spaces!): http : / / dragonage-kink . livejournal . com / 7619 . html ? thread = 29318851 # t29318851_

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><p>Fenris didn't particularly care for his former homeland. It was a formerly grand empire that had shrunk in on itself, feasting on its own blood and power, and trying to drag other nearby nations down with it. If it weren't for the Qunari, the Imperium might have already risen again.<p>

He hated the food, and now that he was free, avoided any fish delicacies if he could. He's rather eat a traditional Ferelden stew than touch another fish.

He hated the politics, the backstabbing, the blood magic, the bribery, and the not-so-covert lusting of another's place of power.

And yet…he did miss some things; a warm spring rain that teased the green back into the rejuvenated grass, a surprise summer storm in the jungles of Seheron.

And…this.

It wasn't something he liked to do in front of anyone else, because he didn't feel that confident in his abilities, and he didn't want the attention…but it brought him a little enjoyment, and sometimes, on nights like tonight, where the wind bit harder than normal and the clouds threatened snow instead of warm life giving rain, he would sing.

It was close to Yuletide, a time of celebrating and thanksgiving. He wasn't much of a Chantry man, but even before he had met Sebastian, he had enjoyed a few songs and hymns.

It had been a long day; Hawke had dragged him out to the Wounded Coast (again) with the Abomination and the Witch (again) and they had fought bandits (again) and he was tired, cold, and possibly coming down with a cold if his sudden attack of the sniffles was anything to go by, and he was alone (again!) and it was just-

With the way the evening was turning out, singing this song seemed vaguely appropriate.

He swallowed a large gulp of wine, eyes turning to the curtain free window, where what appeared to be snow had started to fall outside.

Deciding he had nothing better to do, he rumbled forth a soft note.

"Silent night, holy night," he sighed. "All is calm…all is bright."

He paused, ears pricking up at a familiar pair of boots coming up the staircase. Unconcerned, he continued onward.

"'Round yon Lady, She sweetly sings. Holy Bride the Maker, he brings."

The door to his room creaked open, and after a moment, a familiar shape stood in front of his chair, head cocked curiously.

"Sleep in heavenly peace," he crooned, not daring to look up. "Sleep in heavenly peace."

Isabela, of course, did not react well to being ignored. She easily settled into his lap, his hands automatically wrapping around her and pulling her closer against him. They are both silent, enjoying the other's company when the pirate speaks.

"I didn't know you sang," she whispered. "Could you…continue?"

"Only if you'll join me."

She smiled at him, nuzzling gently at his neck. "Always, sweetness."

Slowly, together, they started to sing once more, his baritone complimenting her alto.

_"Silent night, holy night,_

_Dalish quake at the sight,_

_Glories stream from heaven aftar,_

_Heav'nly hosts sing Alleluia;_

_The Lady brings peace,_

_The Lady brings Peace."_

It was strange, sitting here with the pirate in his lap, with snow falling outside, and a cold on the way…but he felt…at peace. He drew strength from his lovely pirate, kissing her face delicately and lightly while his hand squeezed her. She let out a happy purr, continuing to sing as he continued his affections.

_"Silent Night, Holy night,_

_Bride of the Maker, love's pure light._

_Radiant beams from Thy holy face,_

_With the dawn of redeeming grace._

_Lady, my Lady, at Thy ascent._

_Lady, my Lady, at Thy ascent. "_

Later, when they are both cooling in his bed, he cautiously pulls her against his body, fearful that she will leave again. She is pliant, however, instead of stiff, and only sighs and leans back into him. Mollified, he trails kisses down her spine, not warming her with lust or need, but with affection and love. Outside, the snow continues to fall, blanketing Kirkwall in silence and in white.

The moment is quiet, peaceful, and warm…and Fenris wouldn't trade this moment for the world.


End file.
